Fake Mating To My Ex's Powerful Enemy

Chapter 190: Chapter 190 Judged by the Crowd

Christina’s POV

As the contestant before me stepped off the stage to thunderous applause, my heart pounded against my chest. I walked to the center of the platform, keeping my steps steady and confident.

"You’ve got this," Akira whispered in my mind.

The screen behind me lit up, displaying my designs. A camera flash caught my eye, but I stayed focused. I’d made sure my hands were dry; I hadn’t come all this way, running on four hours of sleep for weeks, just to fall apart now.

I gripped the microphone in one hand and the laser pointer in the other, taking a deep breath.

"Good afternoon, judges and guests. I’m Christina Vance."

I paused, letting them look up. Several judges shifted in their seats, their expressions ranging from bored to curious.

"Theme: Evening Elegance. Gemstones. Sophistication. I’ve designed a four-piece set specifically for high-profile, high-exposure events. Think Met Gala, red carpet must-haves. Every clasp, hinge, and curve has been carefully engineered for comfort. Perfect fit without any styling tricks or double-sided tape."

I clicked the pointer, and the display rotated on screen.

"Let’s start with this ring. The centerpiece is a 7.8-carat cushion-cut Ceylon sapphire, untreated. It’s set in a platinum prong setting. The band gradually tapers and features micro-pavé black spinel instead of rubies to reduce glare under camera flashes. The setting has an open back to let the stone breathe."

Another click.

"The necklace."

Akira hummed happily in my mind. "That’s our masterpiece."

"This necklace uses a floating halo design. Twenty-two Colombian emeralds are suspended between curved titanium bars, held by tension for flexibility. The gems follow your collarbone, not your neckline. It moves with your body instead of fighting it. No flipping, no twisting. Stays put even with loose hair."

I moved to the next slide.

"The earrings. Three teardrop pendants. Mixed cuts including marquise, pear, and round. The main stones are white zirconium, not diamonds. Under LED lighting, zirconium reflects more softly but weighs less on your ears. The hooks have reverse weighting to prevent backward tilt when you move."

One final click.

"This bracelet has a hinged design with brushed gold center and garnets arranged in hexagonal patterns, which barely reflect under spotlights. The inner lining is medical-grade silicone—slip and sweat resistant. You could wear it through an entire gala and forget it’s there."

I glanced at Dr. Eleanor DuBois, who leaned forward with her elbows on the table, staring at the screen.

"That’s my presentation. Thank you."

As the final contestant, no one was rushing me off. I stood my ground.

The judges started scoring, heads down, whispering to each other. One tapped his screen like it wasn’t working.

I scanned the audience and immediately spotted Hudson in the second row. He started clapping first. freeweɓnovel.cѳm

A few people turned to look, and applause spread through the room like a wave. I didn’t wave since the livestream was still rolling, but I let him see my smile.

The secondary screen slowly filled with comments from online viewers.

DuBois finally spoke. "Adequate..."

Nothing else.

A long silence stretched before the numbers appeared.

Eight.

Six.

Seven.

The room went dead quiet.

Then Octavia’s voice cut through.

"The last guy’s necklace looked like cheap Halloween junk, and you gave him a nine. Now she shows real craftsmanship, and suddenly you can’t see? Are you serious?"

Whispers rippled through the room.

The livestream chat exploded.

I could see the viewer numbers climbing in real-time.

Comments flew by too fast to read, but I caught pieces:

[What kind of scoring is this?]

[Octavia’s going off! They thought she was just decoration. Wrong!]

[Christina’s work is legit. Real design sense, not garbage like the last one.]

[SIX?! That necklace belongs in a museum. This is definitely rigged.]

"Dr. Dubois?" Octavia’s voice cut through the noise. "While I’m not a professional designer, you are. So explain the scoring. I’m waiting. And I’m not the only one."

Dr. Eleanor DuBois didn’t respond.

She motioned to one of the staff members who jogged over.

She leaned in close, whispering something I couldn’t hear from where I was standing.

Octavia could.

"Dr. DuBois," she said loudly, "why are you telling them to shut down the livestream?"

DuBois’s voice shook slightly. "There’s a... technical issue."

Octavia looked at the secondary screen.

"Really? Because from here, everything looks fine. So unless your ’issue’ is your bruised ego, I suggest you answer my question."

The chat behind me was going crazy:

[Is that @CVanceJewels?]

[I have her bracelet and it’s amazing. This can’t be real.]

[Bribery. Has to be.]

[CHEATING]

[Cheating.]

[RIGGED]

In the audience, shouting started low and scattered.

"This is rigged!"

"That score’s a joke!"

"Say it to her face!"

Chairs scraped.

Half the third row stood up.

Phones appeared everywhere, cameras aimed at DuBois.

She reached for her microphone again.

Her hand shook slightly.

"Please everyone, stay calm. Scoring is based on each judge’s individual criteria, so some differences are normal."

Octavia didn’t even need to raise her voice.

"Don’t treat us like idiots. You gave nine points to that train wreck. Now suddenly you can’t recognize quality? This isn’t a difference of opinion; this is corruption."

DuBois took a shaky breath.

"Miss Grey, you’re a guest, and I’m a qualified judge. You’re focusing on surface appeal, while we evaluate multiple factors—"

Octavia laughed softly. "Right. Because if I’m not one of you, I must be stupid."

She crossed her arms. "Fine. Enlighten us. What exactly are these mysterious ’factors’? Tell us right now."

A voice from the back: "Yeah, let’s hear it!"

Another: "That was the best design all day!"

"Third place minimum or this is fraud!"

From where I stood, I could see the whole room.

Security guards clustered near the exits, looking confused.

"You’re all seeing this corruption happen," I said loud enough for everyone to hear. "They’re trying to sabotage me because someone’s paying them to. That’s the only explanation for these joke scores."

Akira growled approvingly. "Make them squirm."

DuBois stared at her hands.

The microphone trembled.

"We’ll take a ten-minute break," she said, "and resume shortly."

"Why are we stopping?" I shot back. "The show’s over. I was the last contestant. There’s no break on the schedule."

The crowd erupted in deafening cheers.

The comment section behind me had probably crashed by now.

I didn’t need to look.

DuBois turned and walked toward me.

Her eyes sharp and panicked.

"What do you want?"

"I want a fair score. I want transparency." I pointed at the screen where my designs rotated in high resolution under the bright lights. "Everything’s right there. Let the audience decide. Keep the livestream running."

"Absolutely not!" she snapped. "The public doesn’t understand technical design. That’s why we have expert panels. We are the industry standard."

"Then maybe you’re the problem." I stared her down. "Because right now, that comment section is doing a better job than you are."

She opened her mouth.

Nothing came out.